


A Thinking Man's Crumpet

by savvyliterate



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/pseuds/savvyliterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Met Mata Hari is a Paris hotel room. What an interesting woman."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thinking Man's Crumpet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [areyoumarriedriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/gifts).



> This is based off of episode 1 of "Pond Life." The term "crumpet" was once used as a term of endearment in the UK. The thinking man's crumpet refers to a woman who's intelligent and good-looking.

Well now, the Doctor thought as his gaze slowly slid up the suddenly nude body of his visitor -- an exotic dancer and courtesan, turned German agent. He could see why the Germans had latched onto her as a spy during the Great War. 

"I'm sorry," the Doctor addressed Mata Hari. He waved his toasting fork at her. "Just needed a place to toast my crumpet."

"Well, is that what they call it these days?" she purred, sauntering to him wearing nothing but heels, a jeweled bra and a smile. She sank to her knees and eased the toasting fork from his hand. "Why don't I do a better job at 'toasting your crumpet?'"

"It's a flattering offer. Really, it is," the Doctor babbled as he inched away from having her breasts nearly poke his eye out. Really, he couldn't wait until jeweled bras were out of fashion. "But, two things. One, I'm rather particular about how I toast my crumpet. Two, my wife is standing in the doorway holding a gun, and I'd rather she pointed it at you and not me."

"You say the sweetest things, my love." River held her gun steady at Mata Hari's forehead. A sheer lace dressing gown was loosely belted at her waist, just barely covering enough for modesty's sake. 

\-----

"Did you really have to shoot her in the shoulder, River?" the Doctor said a bit crossly as they walked back to the TARDIS.

"Well, I couldn't shoot her where I really wanted to. Sadly, her death is a fixed event."

"You're being uncommonly jealous, dear." He unlocked the door and stepped aside so she could sweep in first. Very gentlemanly. It also helped that it afforded him the chance to see how her arse looked in that sheer dressing gown.

"Considering that the next thing she did was reach down your trousers for your 'crumpet,' I did have to protect your virtue. Besides, she's a terrible kisser."

The Doctor nearly walked into the console. "You've _kissed_ Mata Hari?"

River shot him a flirty wink and waved a slip of paper she extracted from between her breasts. "I was in need of some data regarding certain German spies. I didn't say I couldn't have fun while I was getting it."

He was trying very hard not to let the mental image of River kissing Mata Hari affect him. It was failing. He set aside the crumpet-ladened toasting fork he'd carried out of the hotel room with him. "So, how well did she kiss?"

She turned to him, softly pressing her lips to his as she threaded his fingers through his hair. Her tongue eased into his mouth as she pressed all those glorious curves to him, and really that was far better than anything Mata Hari could have offered. 

His hands ran beneath the dressing gown to skim over her arse and brush against the curve of her hip. "Did you do anything else?" he murmured.

"Well, she did express some appreciation for my breasts." His gaze fell to her chest. He'd always been rather partial to River's breasts himself. "She's always felt self-conscious about hers."

He brushed the dressing gown aside and trailed his tongue from the base of her breast to the very tip, drawing the nipple into his mouth as he boosted her onto the captain's chair. She shrugged out of the dressing gown and reached for the flies of his trousers, easing them open and taking him into her hand. "Let's see what you can do with your 'crumpet.'"

"Oh, it's definitely not crimping out," he murmured against her breast as his fingers slid over her stomach and between her legs, making her giggles turn into little gasps. 

"That's horrible," she managed as she stroked him from root to tip. "I suppose you found Mata Hari to be a bit of a crumpet?"

"Mata Hari was more like a day-old scone. I prefer to think of you as a thinking man's crumpet." He worked his hand between their bodies to angle himself to slide into her. 

"Sweetie, you say the most romantic things."

And they laughed at the ridiculousness of it all as they made love.


End file.
